Saturday I read this line of Proust:
Just as the Fathers of the Church, good as they were, first had to practice the sins of all men, through which they found their own sanctity, so great artists, immoral as they are, often derive from their own vices a definition of the moral rule that applies to us all.
and I'm absolutely thrilled by the synchronicity, because I know I've encountered a similiar line just recently in Stendhal, having to do with Julien Sorel's soured view of priests.
Or, I suppose I should say, I think I've encountered a similiar line just recently. Perhaps I imagined it, because I certainly can't find it now. I lost a lot of prime Proust reading time over the weekend looking for it, too. I even made a stab at looking for it in The Italian since Vivaldi and Ellena have been captured by Inquisitors by now and one of them could certainly could have had the reflection that I'm attributing to Julien.
My reading has turned to stew. I really ought to quit switching back and forth between so many books.
Instead, I started something new last night.